Snickers Is Good

Chapter One - The Crank

Thomas looked towards the horizon. As always, it was unusually orange and dry. WICKED's tall dark building stood out against the dull wasteland, a couple miles away from where Thomas and his friends stood.
He turned to them now. Minho was bent over his backpack, rifling through it. Newt was squatting on a rock, looking pale. Thomas walked over to Minho.
"What're you doing?"
"Looking for something important," Minho grunted, pushing things aside in his pack. Newt stood up shakily and walked over to the pair of them.
"Can we get a move on?" He said sharply. "I feel like someone is stabbing my bloody head." Thomas and Minho exchanged a worried glance, their hearts sinking.
Newt had the Flare. He wasn't immune like the other boys in Group A. It was only a matter of time before he turned into a Crank. Thomas grit his teeth. He wouldn't let that happen, but the odds weren't good; they had no way to cure him.
"Don't worry, Newt," he said earnestly. "We'll get going as soon as Minho hurries the shuck up."
"Slim it, Thomas." Minho threw some things aside before finally declaring, "Aha!" He pulled out a silver can of hairspray with a little white nozzle on top.
"Minho, are you kidding me?" Thomas exclaimed. "We're supposed to be looking for this safe haven, forget your hair for a moment!"
"Forget my hair?!" Minho shrieked indignantly. "Never! Besides, it'll only take a second."
"We don't have a second to spa-" Thomas was cut off as Minho began spraying the hairspray; large quantities entered Thomas's mouth and he gagged. "Min-ho-stop-"
"Would-you-quit-it?!" Newt choked, his eyes watering. Minho finished spraying and rolled his eyes.
"Geez. You both are so uptight." He pulled a little compact out of his pocket and examined his perfect hair. "There, now we can go."
"God, Minho." Thomas shook his head and turned to Newt, who had curled into a ball on the floor and continued to cough violently. "Newt, you good?"
"Stop being so dramatic, I barely even sprayed any," Minho snarked. Newt resumed coughing. Something black spat out of his mouth and onto the floor. Thomas and Minho froze, staring in horror as Newt hacked on. After a moment of hesitation, Thomas approached him tentatively.
"Uh...Newt? Newt?" He slowly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. Suddenly, Newt shot up, snarling, and Thomas drew back in horror. Black veins stood out in Newt's arms and face, his eyes were black and glassy, and more black spittle dripped from his mouth. Thomas stared helplessly, his jaw dropping in terror.
Newt was a Crank.